


Honeymead Farm Bed and Breakfast

by StarMaamMke



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: AU prompt, F/M, Monster of the Week, UST, old people horror, spoopy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-09-23 20:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9673961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarMaamMke/pseuds/StarMaamMke
Summary: After the events of November, the gates were closed, but not everything went the way of Eleven and the Demogorgon. Jim and Joyce investigate a harmless old lady with a dark secret.Part of an AU Prompt challenge on my tumblr @StarMaamMkeThis is a bit of an homage to quidrille's (EDIT: I am so sorry that I misread who wrote it the first time! ) wonderful Jopper one-shot "but in between, it's you and me". I don't know if homage is the right word, but I was inspired by it, which is why I am gifting the work to them. ( I don't know you, and obviously yell at me if this is weird).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ObeyDontStray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObeyDontStray/gifts), [quadrille](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quadrille/gifts).



> Be sure to follow me on tumblr at @StarMaamMke or my fanfiction sideblog @StrangerThingsFics. That one is an all ships welcome sort of place, my main blog is mostly Jopper trash.
> 
> Song lyrics are from Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Have You Ever Seen the Rain". 
> 
> "Having a dick doesn't make you immune to danger" is a variation of a line from the show "Crazyhead".

Dr. Owens placed a brightly printed brochure onto his desk. Jim squinted as he leaned forward to study the thing. Honeymead Farms Bed and Breakfast. He sat back and gave the good doctor a confused grin.

  
“Sending me on vacation, Doc?”

  
“If you like. There’s a woman who runs the place- a widow- anyway, there’s been talk in the nearby town that she’s hiding something in her barn. Something that she’s been letting out at night to hunt. Something that might be of interest to our work here”

  
“Something like the creature that was dispatched in November?”

  
Dr. Owens shook his head, and resting his chin in one hand, a pensive look on his hangdog face. “I don’t think that…whatever that was could be domesticated like this. It is possibly that when we closed the gate, other things escaped.”

  
“It’s not the worst theory in the world. What exactly do you want me to do?”

  
“Look, I know we’ve been having you more or less keep things quiet around here, and that’s the extent of your work, but this…well, you’ve been to the place this hypothetical new creature hails from, and you aren’t…” The doctor sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling as he pondered his next words.

  
“A chickenshit?” 

  
“Yes. That being said, we don’t want any heroics. We just want you to scope out the place and bring back a report. If there is cause for concern, we will intervene. It wouldn’t even be raising flags here except for…” The doctor slid two Polaroids in front of Jim. One was of what appeared to be a dog, the other maybe a small human. Jim was unable to be completely sure, because both things looked as though they had been turned inside out, and then ravaged. He felt a wave of nausea hit him, but he did not react outwardly.

  
“It killed a kid?”

  
“That’s the mayor of Thiensville’s son.”

  
“Fuck.”

  
“Like I said, I know it’s not your usual line of work here, and the connection to the old lady might just be town gossip, but-”

  
“I’ll go.”

  
“Thank you.” Dr. Owens’s voice was soft and sincere. Jim infinitely preferred this tiny, shy man to Dr. Brenner. He was not sinister, but he did run a tight ship. He had to; he inherited a massive mess when he took over Martin Brenner’s position. Jim wondered if Brenner would be so concerned about his feelings if he was the one giving the orders. 

  
“I’m not a fan of dead kids.”

  
Dr. Owens winced at his words. Everyone knew Jim’s story.

  
“No, you wouldn’t be, would you? One more thing; the woman, Lena Parsons, she’s a little particular about her guests, and she doesn’t accept single men as boarders.”

  
“Oh?”

  
“We’ve asked Joyce Byers to go on the mission with you.”

  
Jim shot up from his seat, hands bawled into fists at his sides. “What?”

  
` Dr. Owens held up his hands. “Easy, Mr. Hopper. We thought she would be appropriate for the same reasons we are sending you. Since you already know each other, we didn’t think it would be hard for you both to come off as a pair of people who are - let’s just say ‘intimately acquainted’.”

  
Jim felt his neck and the sides of his face burn. Joyce knew about the deal he made. She had figured it out ages ago. She was not happy about it, nor were the two of them on speaking terms. 

  
“And she said yes?”

  
Dr. Owens chuckled. “She told us to go to hell until we explained the details, actually. She’s tough, but I think the dead kid sort of clinched it.”

  
Maybe the good doctor wasn’t as nice as Jim had initially thought.

  
“You showed her the pictures?” He ground out.

  
“Oh yes.”

  
“I oughta-”

  
“Do exactly as I say because you made a deal? I agree. Please don’t assume for one second that I am a kinder, gentler version of my predecessor. The events of last November were unfortunate. Unfortunate for this town, and unfortunate for the Lab. In the interest of keeping it hidden from the general public, we all have to do things that maybe we aren’t proud of. But secrecy is a top priority, and I will gladly murder every single person you know in order to keep you in line. Is that understood?” The small man’s dark eyes seemed to flicker and glow with intense purpose, and his curly head was cocked to one side. “Please nod if you want the Byers family to remain unharmed.”

  
Jim felt his blood turned to ice, and he kept imagine his fist slamming against the doctor’s face, over and over again until there was nothing but brain matter and pieces of bone. But he nodded.

  
“Excellent. We have a car for you both to use. You will find it is registered until the name Murray Hanscom. Your wife’s name is Beverly, and you are on a second honeymoon. All of the necessary paperwork is in order.”

  
“Fine.”

* * *

 

The car ride was quiet and filled with tension that Jim could feel in his shoulders. After ten minutes of silence, Jim turned on the radio and fiddled with the dials until the station wagon was filled with the sounds of CCR. 

  
_Someone told me long ago There’s a calm before the storm,_  
_I know; It’s been comin’ for some time._  
_When it’s over, so they say, It’ll rain a sunny day,_  
_I know; Shinin’ down like water…_

  
“This song kind of reminds me of–”

  
“How could you?” Joyce demanded.

  
“I already told you why I made that deal, and I’m not really interested in having this argument again.”

  
Joyce crossed her arms over her chest, turned her head, and glared out the passenger-side window.

  
“Joyce, you have twenty minutes and counting to make yourself all loving-like for this batshit old lady we have to investigate.”

  
“Oh, fuck you.”

  
Jim groaned. 

  
“I don’t know why they sent you. I’m sure there are pretty lady scientists in the Lab that could’ve –”

  
“They’re just called scientists, Hop. I wouldn’t call you a gentleman asshole.”

  
Jim gritted his teeth and white-knuckled the steering wheel. She had always been stubborn as a mule. Too bad it wasn’t like high school, when their fights usually just led to angry heavy petting in the backseat of his dad’s car. 

  
Twenty minutes later, Jim pulled into a long, winding driveway lined with tall pine-trees. They drove for about two minutes before approaching a large, white, gingerbread Victorian house set against a sprawling farm. East of the house was a rickety barn with peeling red paint. Grass and weeds grew tall and riotous around the perimeter of the barn - a contrast to the closely clipped lawn and freshly painted fence and homestead. 

  
“That must be where she keeps it,” Jim murmured.

  
“Shhh… here she comes.”

  
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Joyce; she can’t hear us from all the way over there. The windows are rolled up.”

  
“Shhh!”

  
A short, plump woman in her mid-sixties scurried from the front porch towards the car. She was waving frantically at the both of them and urging them to come out and greet her. Jim thought she looked like anyone’s grandmother. Sweet, grey-haired and unassuming. 

  
Jim stepped out of the car and mumbled a greeting to the old woman before walking around the front to open the door for Joyce. Thankfully, she took his hand and allowed herself to be led to Mrs. Parsons. 

  
“Why, hello! Oh my goodness, what a beautiful couple.” Mrs. Parsons pulled Jim into a tight hug, and then moved onto Joyce. “How long have you been married?” she inquired, sweetly.

  
Jim threw an arm around Joyce and pulled her to his side. He felt her stiffen and then relax. “Twenty-one glorious years.” Joyce gasped softly and Jim knew why. It had been that long since she left him for Lonnie. He felt a little terrible for mentioning it, but not so terrible that he didn’t lean down to kiss the top of her head. He squirmed as he felt a sharp twist of pain in his right buttocks. She pinched him.

  
To both of their mortification, the old woman became misty-eyed. “I was married for forty-five. James died this past November.”

  
Jim chuckled, drawing a sharp glare from Joyce and a confused look from Mrs. Parsons.

  
“Uhhh… Sorry. My father’s name was James.”

  
Mrs. Parsons smiled. “Oh, how sweet. If you would like to grab your luggage, I will show you to your room. I gave you the master-suite with the nicest view – not that it was hard to arrange. People have been spreading nasty rumors, and it’s been hurting business.”

  
“Rumors?” Joyce asked innocently, as Jim pulled their luggage from the backseat.”

  
The old woman nodded. “There’s been some unfortunate things happening near my farm. That dog, and the mayor’s son. People like to tie it to me because I’m obscure, poor and alone.”

  
“That’s horrible,” Joyce cooed. The three of them headed inside.

  
Their bedroom was large and inviting. The hardwood floors were covered with expensive looking rugs, the windows were east-facing and dressed with floaty cream-colored curtains. The king-sized, four-poster bed stood in the middle of the room, and boasted an ice-blue bedspread that matched the canopy. Jim had never seen more pillows in his life. A small fireplace with a well-worn armchair completed the prettiness of the setting. Jim found himself wishing he really was on vacation with Joyce. That she really wanted to cuddle under the covers of the luxurious bed, and sit by his side in front of a roaring fire.  
He looked over at Joyce and found himself smiling at her undisguised admiration. 

  
“I’ll just leave you two alone.” Mrs. Parsons announced. She headed for the door, and then turned around. “By the way, I’m practically deaf. Don’t feel that you need to abstain just because you’re under an old woman’s roof.”

  
She left the two of them to dwell on their mutual mortification. 

  
“She… seems nice,” Joyce remarked softly, her face a deep shade of red.  
“Hard to imagine her unleashing an inter-dimensional pet on small children, isn’t it?” Jim mused, desperate to steer himself away from imagining pressing her down against the mattress and kissing her soft, cupid’s bow mouth. 

  
“I guess that’s what we’re here to figure out.” Joyce shucked off her coat and threw it on the back of the armchair. She stretched her arms over her head with a yawn, and tilted her head to one side. “Mmm, I could go for a nap. We don’t have to do anything until it gets dark, right?”

  
Jim nodded, feeling a little sleepy himself. He sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “I was going to walk the perimeter tonight after she goes to sleep.”

  
Joyce got into bed on the other side and scooted so her back was against the pillows. She placed her hands primly onto her lap and gave him a wide-eyed, expectant look. “You mean ‘we’.”

  
Jim kicked off his shoes, and stretched out onto his side. He propped his head onto his hand and looked over at Joyce. There was ample space between the two of them, but the awareness of being in the same bed with her after many years of separation was acute. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, pull her to his side. 

  
“They only sent you to be part of the cover. No one wants you to actually participate.”

  
“Having a dick doesn’t make you immune to danger, you know.”

  
“I’m just saying.”

  
Joyce blinked sleepily, sinking down until she was lying on her back. She turned to face him, curling up into a ball. He immediately recognized it as her go-to sleeping position.

  
“If you leave without waking me, I’ll kill you.”

  
“Sure thing, Joyce.”

  
He fell asleep shortly after she did. 

  
A keening wail broke through the air, jerking Jim from a deep sleep. The room was pitch black, and he was snuggled against Joyce’s back, a protective arm thrown over her side, his fingers threaded through hers. 

  
“Joyce,” he whispered softly. She snored, despite the sound from outside. Another wail, followed by a series of tonal clicks. This time, Joyce awoke.

  
“Hop?”

  
“Shhh…it’s outside.” 

  
Jim moved from Joyce and stood, holding one finger up to his mouth while stealthily approaching a wide window. Joyce scooted from the bed and padded over to his side. They peered out, gasping at what they saw.

  
It was an old man, or what was once an old man. Jim thought it looked like something inhabiting an old man suit. It twitched and jerked about the lawn, green-gray skin sagging and bubbling in the bright moonlight. 

  
“What the–”

  
As if it heard Joyce, the thing stopped in its tracks and looked up, staring directly at the second-floor window she and Jim were standing in front of. It’s eyes were oily and black. It opened a yellow-toothed mouth and let out another unearthly shriek. Out from the gaping maw tumbled a mass of black slug-like creatures. 

  
Joyce put her hand to her mouth to stifle a scream, and Jim pulled her close to his side. He felt vaguely dizzy. The air seemed to have left the room.  
There was a click as the door opened behind them. Mrs. Parsons stood in her nightgown, long white hair flowing to her waist. She was crying softly.

  
“He’s been like this since November. It was easier to tell everyone he was dead. Please help me.”


	2. Bonus Chapter: Here There Be Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A response to a prompt by @jennydehavilland on tumblr. (follow me! @StarMaamMke)

Joyce Byers lived for quiet moments, and she could have cried when she finally found herself experiencing one. Will was off with the Wheelers, which was great and not at all unusual; that house was a second home to Will. The great surprise was that finally - _finally!_ \- Jonathan had a social life, and was out of the house for the evening.

She wrapped herself in a fluffy robe, walked into the bathroom, pulled bubble bath and salts from the linen closet, sat down at the edge of the tub and set to the task of conjuring the perfect water temperature for her aching muscles. There was one spot between her shoulderblades that needed attention.

Joyce was about to drop her robe to the floor - her fingers were loosening the belt - when there was a knock at the door. She groaned in frustration, and gave the steam and bubbles rising from her bathtub a lingering, almost lover-like look. “Should I ignore it?” She asked the plastic container of salts. It gave her no answer, but there was another knock at the door. Louder this time. “It could be the police. Jonathan _is_ out and about more and more.” She chuckled lightly before Parental Dread set into the pit of her stomach, twisting and souring. It _could_ be the police. She adjusted her robe, tightening the belt, and headed to the living room.

Technically it _was_ the police. The Chief of Police to be exact. He did not look happy. “Hop, what’s up?”

Jim Hopper thrust a manila envelope towards Joyce, his face set in a stony mask of anger, his heavy brow nearly obscuring his striking blue eyes. Joyce frowned and took the envelope from him, peering inside. There was a small stack of money, a few polaroids and a document. “I don’t follow.”

“Did you tell Owens that you enjoyed your little trip to the farm?” Well, she certainly didn’t care for _that_ tone. It came out like an interrogation, with just a splish-splash of _Where_ Have _You Been, Young Lady._ Mr. Calloway, Joyce’s dad, had been dead for over a decade. There was no place in her life for that sort of tone anymore.

“Little trip? My back is still sore from getting thrown against the barn by that… that thing!” She backed away and stepped to one side to give Jim room to enter the house. It was another unseasonably cold night, and he was letting all of the frigid air in.

Jim stomped past her and turned, his expression was unchanged and his large shoulders were tense as piano wire, his hands dug into his hips as he glared down at her. “Then why were you at the Department signing up for another go?” Before she could answer, he pointed at the envelope. “That’s our new mission, by the way. With your per diem. Apparently they’ve already ‘worked’ something out with Donald at the general store. We leave next weekend.”

Joyce signed, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose with a pained expression. “Of course this is what your little tantrum is about.” She opened her eyes, widening and softening them in a way she knew looked appealing and soothing. “I did talk to Owens.”

“Why-...”

Joyce raised a silencing hand. “Because you are out there, risking your life because of a deal you made to save my son. I don’t want to be left out of that bargain. Will is _my_ kid, not yours.”

“I made it to keep you safe!” Her doe-eyes did little to quell his anger, it seemed. Fine. She had tried to be nice.

Joyce raised her hands, placed them on his chest, and gave him a little push. “What exactly is it about me that makes you think I need someone to protect me? Huh?” Her voice was not soft with reason any longer--it now contained an edge she usually reserved for fighting with her ex-husband.

“Joyce, calm-...”

“No! You have a lot of nerve, you know; coming into my house and trying to make decisions for me and my family! I. Don’t. Need. Help. I raised those boys by myself for years and years! I busted my ass to keep this home afloat without a lick of support from my parents, my useless husband - why do you think I need help?”

She tried to push him again, but he caught her by the upper-arms. His grasp wasn’t rough, but it was enough to hold her into place as she trembled with rage. “Do. Not. Push. Me.” he growled. Something about the low rumble in his voice sent a wave of pleasure from her scalp down to her center. She shook the feeling off and focused on her anger as she glowered up at him and his stupid, bearded face. “Do you think I’m completely immune?”

“What?” She tried to wriggle out of his grasp to no avail.

“It’s been years and years -- but when you look at me, tears in your eyes and beg me to help you, beg me to believe you, what do you think that does to a person? Huh?”

Realization struck. “Jim…”

“I’m a cop. I looked because it’s part of my job description, but I kept looking after they dragged that doll out of the lake because I…” he trailed off, his eyes falling to her lips. His grasp loosened and she stepped back.

“You can’t have done it because you’re still carrying a torch after twenty years. That’s insane.”

He shook his head. “No, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. You were my first-...”

“Stop. It doesn’t matter. I’m still helping.”

His expression clouded again. “That’s so stupid, Joyce!”

She felt flames on the side of her face, the tension in her body rising. “Don’t call me stupid!”

“You could have died that night at the farm!”

“You definitely would have, since I was the one who stopped that thing from tearing you to shreds!”

“Maybe having you around was a distraction. Maybe if you hadn’t been there, insisting on rushing down with me to fight, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten the best of me!”

“And maybe your guts would have been in the ditch!”

“YOU DON’T KNOW THAT!”

“NEITHER DO YOU, YOU STUPID ASSHOLE!”

“NOW WHO’S CALLING NAMES?!”

“I. JUST. WANTED. TO. TAKE. A. BATH!”

Her neck hurt from craning it in order to scream at such close proximity. She was close enough that her breasts were grazing his solar plexus. It was absurd how tall he was, and she imagined that his height was intimidating to some, but she had seen him cry at the end of _Old Yeller_ so she was neither cowed nor impressed. Her nails dug into her sides as she waited for him to thunder down some sort of clever retort.

He kissed her instead. One large hand resting on the the curve of her hip, the other cupping her heated cheek. It was a bruising kiss, nearly punishing in its ferocity as tongue and teeth went on the warpath. She surprised herself with the eagerness of her response, her hands coming up to rest on his rock-hard shoulders, grasping at the material of his khaki uniform as he lifted her from the ground to get a better angle.

She moaned as the tip of his tongue swiped at the sensitive roof of her mouth, twisting her fingers through his sandy-blonde hair, and wrapping her legs around his waist. She remembered that she was naked beneath her robe and blushed when he pulled back and gave her an astonished look. “I was about to take a bath,” she explained before nipping at his bottom lip.

“I know. You screamed that at me,” he whispered hoarsely, walking forward towards the couch, holding onto her for dear life. They kissed as they fell onto the couch together, the back of her head missing the hard armrest by mere centimeters. His lips ghosted over the side of her neck as his hands worked at the belt of her robe. “Please say this is okay,” he pleaded with a strained voice.

“Uh-huh,” she moaned, tilting her head to one side to give him better access as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear. She stroked his back as he pushed the robe open, leaving her bare to his eyes.

“Goddamn,” he swore as he rose to his knees and scooted back to admire the view. The cold air hit her naked body, causing her to shiver and her nipples to come to aching points. It didn’t seem fair that he was fully clothed, though she could clearly see the outline of his cock as it pressed against his trousers.

She placed her hands behind her head and arched her back slightly; it was mostly for show, but the couch was also a little lumpy and she needed that tiny stretch to set her to rights. His breath hitched and his descended on her with vigor, his hands  coming down to cover and caress her breasts, his tongue plundering her mouth. She hooked one leg around his waist to pull him closer, his cock was rock hard against her center, and she couldn’t resist rubbing herself against the fabric, creating a friction between her legs. She brought one hand to grasp at one of his hips, pulling him tighter against her. Her other hand was tangled through his hair, tugging at the fine, thinning strands.

His mouth replaced one hand as it closed over a nipple, teasing the taut flesh with the tip of his tongue and drawing it in to give suckle. She whimpered and squirmed as his hand stroked a path down her side, over her tummy and rested against her center. Strong fingers stroked past her seam and found the little bundle of nerves that had eluded other lovers. He circled and teased as his mouth worshipped her breasts, finally dipping inside and finding her slick and ready. “Is it still okay?” he inquired as he pumped three fingers inside of her, grinning as her encouraging cries filled the air. He crooked his fingers within her.

She was nearly insensible with desire at that point, and the inquiry made her frown. “Just… ahh… just fuck me, Hop!” She tipped her head back, closed her eyes and lost herself.

She vaguely heard his belt fall, and his fingers stilled for a moment before they withdrew and were replaced by his cock. She gasped as a feeling of complete fullness radiated through her and her eyes flew open. He was still wearing his shirt, and his eyes were searching her face for a sign to continue. She rotated her hips in response, and leaned up to kiss the doubt from his hips as he began to move inside of her.

“I’ll n-never be able to - ah! Yes, just like that! - I’ll never be able to look at this couch in the same way ever again,” she gasped as he pounded into her. She raised her hips and wrapped her legs around him, urging him to go deeper, faster… harder. He chuckled at her comment, but didn’t lose rhythm. _Old pro_ , she mused before her brain lost all capacity for rational thought.

In the end, she didn’t quite get to reach the precipice for a second time, she had been close, though. He pulled from her with a frustrated cry, finishing on her tits and stomach, mumbling apologies as he gasped and shuddered. “Jesus, I wasn’t thinking or I would have brought a-...”

“Shhh… give me a moment,” she whispered, pushing him away so her fingers could move to work at her still aching center. She closed her eyes but could still feel his gaze burning against her body as she writhed and attempted to finish herself off. After a few moments of this, he brushed her hand away and replaced it with his tongue, bringing her knees up to rest against his shoulders as he suckled and licked against her drenched pussy, his fingers coming back to aid in his ministrations. He had learned to be considerate in their time apart, she realized as she soared upwards towards completion. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she came crashing down.

When it was over, she sat up and regarded him with drowsy fondness. He had a dopey grin on his face as he stood and zipped up his pants. She rolled her eyes as she put the robe back into place. “I’m still going on that mission,” she sniffed, smirking as the smug look left his broad features.


End file.
